


Say You'll Share With Me

by nerdywriter36



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Love Never Dies - Lloyd Webber, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, Short Little Stories, Tumblr Prompts, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdywriter36/pseuds/nerdywriter36
Summary: Stories based on Tumblr prompts. Come share them with me :)
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Erik | Phantom of the Opera/Meg Giry
Comments: 40
Kudos: 55





	1. Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the prize for thewriterinthebatcave on tumblr for winning my 1-year anniversary giveaway - lnd fix-it where christine survives and erik is confused about parenting

The sound of the gunshot still rang in Erik’s ears, even as he sat by Christine’s bedside in Phantasma’s infirmary, watching her closely to make sure she stayed stable. It had been almost an hour since the...incident; he couldn’t even bear to think about it more than he had to. 

He had yet to stop blaming himself for what had happened. _If I could just learn to keep my big mouth shut, this never would have happened,_ he thought to himself. _Nadir would give me an earful like never before._

Besides the all-encompassing worry for Christine, who still lay sleeping, recovering from her injury, Erik’s heart ached for Gustave, who was sleeping in another chair on the other side of his mother’s bed. He had only just discovered the boy - _his_ boy - and had no clue what he was meant to do in his new role as a father, but what he did know was that it broke his heart to have to see his son go through the ordeal he had been forced into. Dealing with a father who didn’t truly love him, only to find out that man wasn’t his father, then being kidnapped and seeing his mother be shot on top of it all? No child deserved that, Erik knew that much, but he was at a loss as to how to help him. 

Noticing Christine stirring out of the corner of his eye, Erik quickly turned back to look at her and pulled his chair closer to her bed, then set his hand over hers. “Christine,” he said softly, running his thumb over her knuckles and managing to return the weak smile that she gave him. 

“You’re here,” she whispered, giving his hand the slightest squeeze. A show of gratitude? Care? Joy? Erik couldn’t quite tell, but what he did know was that she wanted him by her side, which was more than I could have ever asked for. 

“Of course I’m here. I’m not leaving you alone, especially not now,” he replied, then gestured to the other side of the bed. “And before you inquire, Gustave is right there beside you. He’s been right there since we arrived.” 

Christine turned her head to look over at their son and smiled as soon as she saw him, the simple gesture enough to flood Erik’s chest with a feeling of warmth. She truly did adore motherhood, and his hope was that her outlook on raising a child would rub off on him, simply because he was so out of his depth. 

Her mood soon shifted, however, as she turned back to him, her brows slightly furrowed. “Raoul?” she asked simply. 

Erik stifled a sigh, pushing away his frustration at seemingly never being able to escape that name; their wager had done enough for one evening. He didn’t need to make Christine even more aware of his feelings about the Vicomte. To aid in that effort, instead of responding verbally, he simply shook his head, knowing she would understand. “I received confirmation that he boarded the ship to France,” he replied, adding just enough details to his explanation to hopefully put the topic to rest. 

Christine nodded, making no effort to draw attention to any frustration with Raoul on Erik’s part; he had hidden it well enough, it seemed. “I assumed. He would have left no matter the outcome of this evening,” she said. “I made that choice.” 

“Because we put you in a position where you had to choose. That was wrong, and I apologize profusely,” Erik said quietly, starting to pull his hand away from hers. “I seem to continue to put you in scenarios that only end in you being hurt.” 

“My angel, you never intended for that to happen. I knew you were making an effort to protect myself and Gustave tonight; it is not your fault that Meg’s mind has...gone astray,” Christine said as she took his hand again and lifted it to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Perhaps not, but...I nearly lost you again. Nearly cost our son his mother,” Erik replied with a glance over at Gustave, only to look back to Christine and frown when he felt her grip on his hand tighten slightly. “Are you alright?” 

A weak nod was her response. “I’m fine. Just in a bit of pain.” 

Sighing, Erik leaned over and hesitantly kissed her forehead. “A nurse will be in to give you some laudanum so you can sleep. Just try and rest now until then,” he said softly. “I’ll be right here.” 

“Alright. Thank you,” Christine replied, tipping her head up just enough to gently press her lips to his. 

Erik pulled away with a quiet sigh, brushing a curl from her face and giving her a small smile as she closed her eyes again. He couldn’t quite comprehend how someone could look so beautiful when they were laying in bed with an injury as severe as hers, but then again, it was Christine; she could accomplish just about anything. 

As he watched her to make sure she slept, Erik lifted his head when he noticed Gustave look up and lean over to hold his mother’s hand. “She’s doing alright, Gustave, don't worry. She’s just tired,” he said softly, shooting the boy a small smile when he glanced over. 

Gustave nodded, kissing Christine’s cheek before he looked back at Erik. “She is going to get better...right?” he asked, and Erik didn’t miss the tears filling his eyes. 

“Of course she is. She is going to be taken care of and she will get better in due time,” Erik said with a nod. “You don't have to worry.” 

The boy didn’t reply; instead, much to Erik’s surprise, he walked around the bed, sat on his father’s lap, and leaned his head on his shoulder. “I just don't like seeing her hurt,” he said quietly. 

Erik stiffened, completely unsure of what to do. He couldn’t understand the fact that Gustave was willingly seeking out comfort from him, and he wasn’t sure how to approach offering said comfort. Still, when he heard the boy sniffle, he slowly wrapped his arms around him to hold him close and found a bit of a smile forming on his face when he felt Gustave cuddle a bit closer to him. 

“I know you don't; neither do I,” Erik replied, deciding to take a chance and started to gently rub the boy’s back. “But she’s going to be fine, I promise. She’ll be back to her happy, loving self in due time. She has you and I to help her as well, so she’ll get better in good time.” 

“Okay. If you promise, I believe you,” Gustave said, lifting his head to look at Erik and giving him a smile. 

Erik smiled back, reaching up to hesitantly brush a stray hair from his son’s face. “I’m glad. Everything’s going to be alright. I’m going to make sure of it, as much of an adjustment as this may be for all of us.” 


	2. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prize for itsonlylove on tumblr for winning my 1-year anniversary giveaway - erik teaching gustave something musical-related and christine watching them

Erik stood in his study in front of the window overlooking the New York neighbourhood he and his little family called home while his bow delicately moved along the strings of his violin. It had once belonged to his father, Charles, only arriving in his hands after he had been listed as the sole beneficiary on his mother’s will, much to his surprise. It had needed some tuning, but was in near perfect shape; his father was a man with taste, that much was sure. 

His focus, though, was no longer on the beauty of the instrument or its sentimental value, not was it on the notes of his new composition filling the room. Rather, it was on the shining golden band that adorned his left ring finger. He couldn’t help but look at it as his fingers danced over the neck of the violin, couldn’t stop recalling the moment Christine had slipped it onto his finger with a glowing smile and a matching, albeit more delicate, ring of her own. The fact that he was a married man with a family had baffled him then and still did in the present, just over a year later with Gustave growing too fast for his liking and a new little one on the way. The world had shown him kindness for once, and he had not one complaint to speak of. 

His playing and reflection were soon interrupted, though, by a quiet knock on the door, and he turned to see his son standing in the doorway, a familiar curious glint in his eye. 

“Hello, my boy. I take it you have finished your lessons for the day?” he inquired as he lowered his bow and set it on his desk. 

“Yes, Papa,” Gustave replied, the title he had bestowed upon Erik still enough to make both of them smile. “I’d heard what you were playing and wanted to come to listen because I’ve never heard it before.” 

Erik couldn’t help but laugh quietly to himself; the curiosity his son possessed seemed endless. “Well, you couldn’t have. I have been working on a lullaby of sorts for your new sibling,” he explained. 

Immediately, his son’s eyes lit up and he stepped closer. “It sounds really good, Papa. Do you think you could teach me to play it? I want to be able to play music for the baby too.” 

“Well, it’s a bit complicated for a beginner, but I could teach you a far simpler lullaby,” Erik proposed. “You know _The Star,*_ don’t you? I would assume your mother sang it to you as a baby.” 

Gustave nodded, already holding the violin bow in his hand. “I know it. It’s set to a Mozart piece.” 

“It is, yes, very good,” Erik replied as he passed the violin to his son. “Now, stand up straight. Rest it on your shoulder and set your chin here, on the chinrest.” 

“Did you make the violin, Papa? Or did you buy it?” Gustave inquired as he followed his father’s instructions to correct his stance. 

“Neither. It belonged to my father before he passed away.” 

“Oh. It’s beautiful.” 

Erik smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of his son’s head. “Indeed.” He then carefully positioned the boy’s fingers in the correct places to play the opening notes of the lullaby and helped him to place the bow. “Now, just push the bow forward and then pull it back towards you. Long strokes so it doesn’t make the song sound choppy.” 

Gustave nodded and tried to follow through, only for a slightly scratchy note to be played instead of anything musical. Cringing, he turned to look up at his father briefly before he started to giggle. 

“That sounded like a dying cat,” he said through his laughter. 

Even Erik could no longer stifle a laugh after that. “Perhaps a tad,” he replied, chuckling as he readjusted the position of Gustave’s fingers. “Let’s try this again.” 

The first note was successfully conquered a moment later, as were the second and third, and soon enough, Gustave was playing the short lullaby perfectly. 

“Yes, I did it!” he exclaimed, doing a little hop in place out of excitement before he wrapped his arms around Erik’s waist. “Thank you for teaching me, Papa.” 

“It was my pleasure, my boy,” Erik said with a smile. “Now, why don’t you run through it one more time? we want it to be perfect for your little brother or sister, after all.” 

With an eager nod, Gustave set the violin back on his shoulder and started to play, and as he watched, Erik noticed his wife out of the corner of his eye. 

Turning to get a better look, he saw Christine leaning on the doorframe to watch the pair, a smile on her face and one hand resting on her slightly swollen stomach. When she caught his eye, her smile widened before she blew a kiss in his direction, not wanting to interrupt their son’s practice by stepping into the room. 

Erik lifted his hand and closed his fist as if to catch the kiss, then set it over his heart. “I love you,” he mouthed, hoping she would understand what he had tried to tell her. 

Christine nodded in response, moving to rest both hands on her stomach. “We love you too.” 

* * *

*** _The Star_ is the title of the poem by Jane Taylor, whose words became the lyrics to _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_ , set to _“Ah, vous dirai-je, Maman,”_ composed and published by Mozart in 1761.**


	3. Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prize for blood-and-lychee on tumblr for winning my 1-year anniversary giveaway - erik finds out that christine is pregnant and is afraid the baby will be like him, but doesn't want to upset christine, so he stays silent while it consumes him from the inside

Erik’s eyes were wide open and locked on the ceiling, even though the bedroom was dark and Christine slept soundly beside him. He couldn’t fall into a peaceful slumber as she had, not with the news she had given him earlier that day that he was still trying to comprehend.

Pregnant! But how could that be? Well, he knew _how_ and he could practically see the smirk on Nadir’s face already; they had had an incredible awkward discussion about protection, after all. That conversation had gone out the window, though; Erik couldn’t exactly recall a night of intimacy where he completely forgot that factor, but that had clearly been the case at least once or he wouldn’t be in the state of panic that he was. 

Panicked was a remarkable understatement - petrified was probably a better description of what he was feeling. Turning his head to look over at his wife, the knot in his stomach only tightened when he noticed the slight swell of her abdomen, plain evidence of the life growing inside of her - the life that they had created. Something so small and helpless, yet it instilled so much fear in his heart. 

He didn’t know the first thing about being a parent! He had never known his father, Giovanni had tried and failed in Italy, and Nadir was more of a brother than anything. On top of that, his mother was far from a good example, so he had no true reference point to pull from, and that inexperience terrified him. Not knowing was not something Erik was comfortable with, that much was for certain. 

With a heavy sigh, Erik slowly sat up and got out of bed, pressing a light kiss to Christine’s forehead before stepping out of the room to slip on his cloak and go to see the only person he knew he could talk to about everything on his mind.

* * *

“So Christine is pregnant. That is...quite the development,” Nadir said softly as he set a cup of tea in front of Erik. Admittedly, his friend had been rather peeved when he had arrived in the middle of the night to awaken him, but once the circumstances had been disclosed, he had relaxed quite quickly. 

“I don't know what I’m meant to do,” Erik replied, twisting his wedding band around his finger. 

“To be frank, not leaving your pregnant wife at home alone without telling her where you are going is a good start.” 

Erik looked down at his feet, ashamed of his own actions. “I didn’t know how long I could keep my feelings to myself. She had been gushing about the baby all day since she told me; about its nursery and names and all its little clothes. But I said nothing because I’m so terrified that the child...that they will…” 

“That they will look like you,” Nadir finished, his voice quiet as he sat down next to his friend. 

A simple nod was Erik’s initial response. “I couldn’t bear it. You know I have never been inclined to have children because I didn’t want them to carry the burden of the life I’ve led. I couldn’t curse them with a face like mine that will only mean suffering for them.” 

“Their life would be nothing like yours, Erik. They would have a mother that loves them, and a father that would do anything for them,” Nadir said, setting his hand on his friend’s knee. “They would be so well protected from any sort of adversity that might come their way.” 

“But I don't know what I’m doing,” Erik said, clenching his fists in frustration as he tried to get his companion to see the viewpoint. “I have never been around a child, have never felt any connection with one. I don't know how to be around them, how to be so...so gentle and tender.” 

“Well, that is a remarkable lie,” Nadir said matter-of-factly, giving Erik a small smile when he turned to him. “I’ve seen you with a little boy - with my little boy. You were the kindest and the gentlest I have ever seen you when you were with him. You do know how to be around a child that you care for, believe me.” 

“And then I betrayed the trust I had built with him and took everything from him,” Erik whispered as he looked down at his lap and tried to blink back the tears brought on by his ever-present grief over Nadir’s son. 

He only lifted his head when he felt Nadir tip his chin up with the crook of his finger and found his friend giving him a small smile. “I won’t let you apologize because what happened was in his best interests; we both know that. What I don't think you understand, though, is that you were his world, Erik. Well, second only to me, but you were up there,” he said, his smile growing slightly when Erik laughed breathily at the comment. “But you were so good to him, and you will be no different with a child of your own.” 

“You were such a model parent, though. I could never be like that.” 

The snort that came in response from his friend confused Erik; what he had said was a genuine comment, not one that was meant to be amusing. 

“I believe we need to discuss your definition of a model parent because I am not that at all. You came into my parenting journey seven years along, which might be why I appeared to have a head on my shoulders, but that was not the case at the start. I was a single father; I became a widower the day my son was born, which left me without the woman who instinctively knew what to do. I was raising a terminally ill child, which complicated everything, and I was so young,” Nadir explained with a slight shake of his head. “I was only 22; I hardly had a handle on my own life, never mind a little life that depended entirely on me. I was lost for a while. 

“What you have to remember is that there is no book of instructions - you learn through experience. Even having examples doesn’t guarantee that you have it figured it out; I loved my father, but I knew that his strict way of parenting wasn’t how I wanted to raise my child. I learned with time, and you will too. You can’t be so nervous, my friend, and you can’t keep hiding what you’re feeling from Christine.” 

“I know I can’t,” Erik said with a sigh. “I just don't want to crush her spirits. She is so excited.” 

“You won’t break her spirits. You just have to be honest with her,” Nadir replied. “Now, go wash up and then go home to her. All will be well, I promise.” 

With a nod, Erik got to his feet and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door before he slipped off his mask and rinsed his face in the sink basin. As he dried off with the small hand towel, he glanced up at his reflection in the mirror and leaned back against the wall with a sigh, examining his features more than he had in some time; pale, no nose, thin lips. There was nothing that he wished to pass on to his child. And yet...perhaps some things were salvageable; high cheekbones, a sharp jaw, golden eyes. Those...more desirable features of him in combination with any of Christine’s beautiful characteristics might go well for their child. Perhaps he could grow to adjust to his new circumstances just as Nadir had said. 

As he was lost in thought, though, a very familiar female voice caught his attention. “Christine,” he whispered, slipping his mask back on before he walked out of the bathroom to the parlour. There, he found his wife in tears in Nadir’s arms, her speech too warped by sobs for him to understand it. “Christine?” 

She looked up with a gasp and immediately ran over to throw her arms around him. “I thought you’d left,” she said through her tears as she buried her face in his chest. 

“I am truly sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said softly, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “I just...I needed to go out and clear my head. I should have told you, I apologize.” 

“I thought you left because you didn’t want the baby and just wouldn’t tell me,” she whispered. 

Erik sighed and tightened his embrace, noticing Nadir give him an encouraging nod just before he stepped out to the kitchen to give the couple their privacy. 

Finally, Erik mustered up the courage he needed to speak to his wife. “My dear,” he said with a deep breath, walking to the sofa and sitting beside her, “it is not that I do not want this child.” 

“Then what is it?” Christine asked quietly, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief Nadir had seemingly given to her. 

“I...I am afraid, if I‘m to be honest with you. I haven’t the slightest clue as to how to raise a child - I had no parents of my own to learn from - and I...to give you a child that resembles me is the last thing I want,” Erik admitted. 

As he looked up at his wife, he frowned slightly when he noticed fresh tears in her eyes just before she cupped his face in her hands, then gently slipped his mask off. “No matter what this child looks like, I am going to love them unconditionally, as I do you,” she said softly. “And I’m afraid too; I don't have experience with raising a baby, but we will figure it out together, I promise.” 

Tears of his own filled Erik’s eyes at that as he wrapped his arms around Christine, burying his face in her wild chestnut curls. “I don't deserve you,” he whispered. 

“You deserve love, my darling, and that is what I wish to give you.” 

“You are far too gracious,” Erik said softly, kissing the side of her head before he straightened up and glanced down at her stomach while his hand hovered in mid-air, not knowing if he should touch her or not. 

Christine smiled when she noticed, then took his hand and gently set it on her stomach. “They haven’t started to move quite yet, but they will. You’ll feel it once they do,” she said with a nod. 

“I’m sure,” Erik said quietly, a small smile on his own face as he ran his hand over her abdomen and felt the same small bump he had noticed earlier that night. “I don't know how I’m going to do this.” 

“With me there with you. We’ll be alright, and our baby is going to be so spoiled by their Papa that they won’t know what to do,” Christine said with a quiet giggle. 

Erik couldn’t help but chuckle as he leaned forward to gently kiss her. “Perhaps,” he replied. “I love you.” 

“And I love you more, my angel. Both me and Baby.” 


	4. Flutters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr fluff prompt - "did you feel that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this a while ago with a pair of my OCs from 'Like Father, Like Son' and wasn't going to post it, but ofserien on tumblr loves these two and wanted me to post it, so here's this quick little drabble thing. enjoy :)

"Did you feel that?" 

Maddie smiled, turning her head to look at her husband as he laid next to her on their bed, his hand on her stomach. "Yes, dear, I did. Just like I felt it the last time, and the time before that, and every single time before that as well." 

"I'm just excited, you know that," Charles mumbled, gently running his hand over her belly. "Scared out of my mind, but excited nonetheless." 

"You are going to be a wonderful father, Charles. You don't need to be scared," Maddie replied, gently setting a hand to her husband's cheek. "Our little girl is going to absolutely love you." 

Charles scoffed. "Little girl? No, no, we are definitely having a boy and naming him William. I know it." 

"Right, sure. Believe what you want, I suppose." 

"Alright, I will," Charles laughed, sitting up in bed and leaning over to kiss his wife's stomach, resting his forehead against it. "Hello, little one. You have to be a boy and prove Mommy wrong, okay?" 

Maddie rolled her eyes as she slowly sat up and smacked her husband's arm. "You're a pest," she said, laughing as Charles pulled her onto his lap. 

"But you love me nonetheless," Charles said with a cheeky grin. 

With a sigh, Maddie smiled back at him, cupping his face in his hands. "I do. Both me and Baby love you very much," she replied as she leaned forward and gave him a gentle kiss. 


	5. I'm Getting Too Old For This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on a prompt from behindthemirrorofmusic on tumblr - ' Erik insists on carrying Christine to bed every night, resulting in him throwing out his back one night'

They had fallen into a comfortable routine in their day-to-day lives. The marriage had been an adjustment for both parties; Christine had been used to walking in the light and going out on the streets of Paris whenever she pleased, while Erik had been used to silence and solitude. Naturally, the fact that Christine now lived life beneath the Opera House and Erik had another person always living in his house involved a little patience, but they were determined to make it work.

An idea to make that happen occurred to Erik one night; it was a simple one in his mind, so he proposed it to his wife one night at dinner, hoping that she would be inclined to agree and the idea would please her, for that was all he ever wanted to do: "Christine, what...what if I were to carry you to bed each night?"

He noticed her fork stop halfway to her mouth, immediately making his heart start to race. "Why...why would you do that?" she inquired, looking at him expectantly. 

"Well...you do so much during the day. I only thought it would be a gesture from me to show that I appreciate how much you do for me, for us, and to give you a way to relax during the evening, but now that you're questioning it, I realize that it was a silly idea, don't mind me, my dear," Erik rambled on as he got to his feet and set his dishes in the sink, making a mental note to himself to wash them later, but soon enough that he would beat his wife to it. "You know me, I have plenty of ridiculous ideas that I'm sure you must laugh about in your moments alone." 

"Erik." 

"You really needn't try to explain yourself, I understand completely." 

_"Erik."_

Finally ceasing in his stammering, Erik turned around to face his wife, rather wide-eyed as he looked at her and found himself confused when he saw a fond smile on her face. "Yes?" 

"You're doing it again," Christine said with a soft laugh. 

"Doing what?" 

"The rambling! You do it whenever you get nervous about my opinion on something even though I've hardly said a word on the matter. You need to wait for me to finish my thought," Christine replied as she got to her feet, set her plate aside and rested her hands on her husband's chest. "Can you do that now? Please?" 

Erik nodded, giving her a small smile as he set a hand on the curve of her waist. "Yes, I'm listening. No more stammering," he said quietly. "I'm sorry that I even do that in the first place, it's just a bit of a nervous reaction to-" 

"Erik!" 

"I'm sorry." 

Christine laughed quietly, pressing her head against his chest for a moment. "I think it's very sweet that you want to carry me to bed, and if you wish, you can. I think it would be rather nice," she said. 

A smile immediately spread across her husband's face. "You do?" he asked. 

"I do, yes. It's a kind gesture and-" Christine began, only to cut herself off with a quiet squeak when Erik lifted her into his arms. "What are you doing? We've only just eaten dinner, it isn't time for us to go to bed yet." 

"Perhaps not, but I thought I would get some practice in before the real thing. Not to mention that the bedroom isn't just for sleeping, my love," Erik said, quirking a brow and leaning down to give her a kiss. 

Christine smirked slightly as she pulled away. "That is true, yes. Let's go, then," she replied, giggling despite herself when her husband noticeably picked up his pace. 

* * *

Their new routine went quite well for some time, and Christine quite enjoyed being doted on by her husband as much as she was. She knew Erik didn't mind, though; he jumped at every opportunity that he had to treat her to some sort of gift or special treat. All was going right for quite a while. 

Until it wasn't. 

Erik had been carrying her to bed, Christine's head on his shoulder and a content smile on her face, when a sudden sharp gasp from him shocked her out of her daydreaming.

"Erik?" she asked, lifting her head to look up at him. 

"Christine, I must put you down." His voice was breathy and strained, she noticed, so she immediately set one leg on the floor to get her balance before she stood up straight and looked at him.

"What's wrong, Erik?" she inquired, noting the pained grimace painted on his face and his hand that was set to his lower back. 

He managed a soft laugh. "I appear...to be getting too old to carry you around whenever I please, my dear," he choked out. "My back does not agree with that decision." 

"Oh dear," Christine said, stifling a laugh as she wrapped an arm around him. "Come, I'll help you to the bedroom. We'll get you out of your shirt and I'll bring a hot towel to help relax the muscles a bit, come along." 

Reluctantly, Erik shuffled along with her towards the bedroom, quietly grunting and groaning as he went. She could tell it stung his pride to have to move at a snail's pace and let her help him because a sign of his age was coming through when he only wanted to do something nice for her, but that wasn't her concern at the moment; her primary concern was to try and help him get his mobility back. 

"Now, just try not to move around too much," she instructed as she slipped off his jacket, quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt and slipped it off, pressing a kiss to his cheek while she was at it. She then helped him to slowly lay down on his stomach, smoothing down his hair before walking into their ensuite, very grateful for the heating that Erik had managed to install beneath the Opera House at moments such as this. 

"You don't have to do this, my angel. It's late, you shouldn't be worrying about me," Erik called from the bedroom. 

"Nonsense," Christine replied, ringing out a towel and bringing it back into their bedroom to drape it over her husband's lower back. "You're hurt. I love you and want to help you feel better. I'll just leave this towel here for now and try to massage your back a little bit once the heat has warmed your muscles." 

She saw Erik give her a small smile as she crouched down next to the bed so they could be at eye level. "You are truly perfect," he said softly. "I'm sorry that I am far from any sort of Prince Charming, too old to sweep you off of our feet." 

"Perhaps that's true, but..." Christine began, trailing off and leaning forward to give him a gentle kiss. "You're not going to get too old for that." 


	6. Sleep So Long Awaited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taken from a post by @behindthemirrorofmusic on tumblr: 'apparently in one of the millions of Love Never Dies drafts, it was Erik who died. The final scene was very different with Erik pushing Raoul out of the shot's way and subsequently getting hit himself. As Erik lays dying in Christine's arms, Raoul assured Erik he will be a better father to Gustave and raise him in his honour and Christine tells him she loved him. Then Erik sings his last words to her: "Christine, don't weep, for I can finally sleep...I have heard you sing...once more..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blame @phannah--montana on tumblr (kitschy here on AO3 - go check out her work, she's awesome) for this. she made me write it :)

Erik's heart was pounding. Over the course of his life, he had been in countless terrifying situations that had made his heart race and adrenaline course through his veins, but none compared to the way he felt as he rushed through a crowded amusement park, knowing that his only child was missing. 

The roar of rollercoasters and giddy squeals of children did nothing to calm his anxiousness; every young boy he saw made his heart skip a beat, but none of them were his Gustave. 

Despite all of that, though, what pained him the most was seeing how distressed Christine was. The panic on her face and the tears in her eyes made his heart ache and his nerves fire off more than they already had been. 

"Erik, what if we don't find him?" she asked as she turned to him, taking a shaky breath before she looked away to scan their surroundings again. 

"Don't say that, we are going to find him," he immediately replied. He tried to be gentle but kept his tone firm to reassure her. He refused to let her believe that they'd lose their son for good, and he didn't want to believe it either. 

"But what if we don't? Or if we do, what if it takes hours? He could be anywhere out here in the dark, surrounded by strangers. What if someone has unsavoury intentions? They could just...just take him! Oh, and the water; Erik, he can't swim, what if he falls in?" Christine said, her rapid-fire questions finally ceasing as her tears overflowed. 

With a quiet sigh, Erik pulled her into his arms and held her head to his chest. "Don't think of such things, my darling. We will find him and he will be alright and we will take him somewhere safe," he said, gently rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her. "We must keep searching, though. Go with Madame Giry and search over there, by the concession stands. I will stay here and do another close look before we move on." 

Christine nodded, taking his hand and squeezing it before she hurried off with Giry, leaving Erik to hurry the other way to continue the search for his son. As much as he had been trying to reassure his angel that Gustave would be found, he was beginning to realize that the exact same fears were running through his own mind. His son simply having gone missing was enough to terrify him, but what Christine had said about him being alone in the dark, taken away, or falling into the rough bay surrounding the island made his stomach twist in a way he had never felt before. He didn't even want to consider his one and only child being scared, possibly hurt, and god, if something worse happened, then- 

"Mister Y!" someone called. 

Erik stopped in his tracks at the sound of his pseudonym, knowing that almost no one could pair that name with him. As he tried to consider who it could be without looking, he heard the same voice use his birth name and finally turned around, only to frown right away. 

"R-Raoul?" he stuttered out, too surprised by the man's appearance to use his formal title as he usually did. "What are you...I thought you left?" 

"I did, but I couldn't get to the docks. Christine deserved more than a letter, so I came back to talk to her about everything. Explain my decision," Raoul replied, only to frown slightly when he noticed how frantic the man in front of him was. "Is something wrong?" 

"No, no, n-nothing is wrong," Erik said immediately. "Christine is, um...she-she's not at the hotel." 

"That's fine, I can wait, but something is clearly wrong," the Vicomte said with a sigh. "Not that I'm particularly concerned about you - I'll sleep fine tonight, - but it's inhibiting this discussion, so you may as well just tell me." 

"Gustave is missing." 

Immediately, Raoul's frown deepened. "What?" 

"Gustave is missing, my-my son is missing," Erik repeated, running a shaky hand through his hair as those simple words made the situation all too real for him. 

"Wh- how? When did this happen?" Raoul asked, pushing aside his past with the ex-Phantom to try and get to the bottom of the matter at hand, and while the truth of Gustave's parentage stung, he could see Erik's distress plain and simple; he was a villain no more, but merely a frightened father instead. "I saw him at the theatre before I left, he was meant to stay there." 

"Yes, I know that much, but when Christine and I returned to her dressing room, he wasn't there. At first, I thought you had taken him, but it was confirmed that you left alone. Madame Giry isn't to blame either, so now we're trying to track Meg down." 

Raoul thought to himself for a moment, only for the blood to drain from his face as a realization dawned on him. "She goes swimming every morning, near the bar where we spoke." 

"Suicide Hall, oh my god," Erik breathed, exchanging a panicked glance with the Vicomte before he bolted towards Christine, who stood not far away, with Raoul right behind him. 

"Raoul?" Christine said with a frown, turning to Erik for answers. "What is he-" 

"He's going to help, but we think we know where Meg took Gustave, come," Erik immediately replied as he took her hand and started running towards the seaside bar and pier. 

* * *

"Meg!" Erik yelled as he ran down the pier, his heart leaping into his throat when he saw his son held in the woman's arms. "Meg, stop, please!" 

He immediately skidded to a stop, though, when he watched her pull a gun from behind her back to point it at him. "Stay there! I'll shoot if you don't! Or...or he'll end up in the water!" she threatened as she shuffled Gustave closer to the edge of the pier despite his efforts to squirm away. 

"No, Meg, please! Leave him out of this!" Erik pleaded, sighing shakily when he heard Christine crying quietly behind him. "Please let him go, Meg, please don't hurt him." 

"Why should I listen to you?! That's all I've done for ten years, only for you to refuse to even look my way!" the young Giry retorted. "And why does his safety matter to you so much? You hardly know him!" 

"Meg, he is only a child, he should not be caught up in something like this," Erik said calmly, his eyes locked on Gustave, who was looking right back at him with distress painted on his face. "Just leave him be and keep this between us." 

Meg shook her head, still holding Gustave tightly. "He is involved because he ties you to her! You couldn't just leave her behind, and then you had a child with her!" 

Erik's heart sunk when he heard her and watched a frown form on his son's face. "What?" the boy quietly asked. 

"And he didn't even know! The secrets never stop with you, do they?" Meg snapped, adjusting her hold on the gun still pointed at them. "The family resemblance is rather strong, though; he would have figured it out soon enough." 

"Meg...Meg, please let him go," Erik said quietly, fighting to keep his voice steady despite the tears starting to well up in his eyes. "He hasn't hurt anyone, leave him out of this fight." 

His fingers twitched as he waited for any sort of response or reaction from Meg, feeling Christine's hand on his back, gripping his suit coat, her anxiety palpable even though he couldn't see her. 

What made the situation all the more heartwrenching, though, was what he heard his son quietly say with tear-filled eyes: "Papa, help." 

"Oh, Meg, please let him go," Adele Giry piped up to say. "Let the boy go to his father, he has no part in this." 

It was another moment before Erik released the breath he'd been holding when Meg pushed Gustave forward and the boy ran right into his arms. "I've got you, Gustave, you're alright," he whispered, holding his son tightly when he felt how he was shaking, then turned around so Christine and Raoul could comfort him as well. 

As Gustave hugged his mother, he turned to look up at Erik. "So...so you're my real father?" he asked quietly. 

Erik sighed and gave him a weak smile. "I am. I'm sorry you only just found out and that it happened this way; the situation is very complicated. Still, I'm glad you had Raoul to take care of you until now." 

"So am I," Gustave replied, smiling back at him. "But I'm glad I have my real Papa now too." 

"As am I, Gustave." Erik reached out to hesitantly smooth down his child's hair and simply stood looking at him for a moment, ecstatic that he was safe, but even that didn't keep him from noticing the sound of a gun's hammer being pulled back from behind them. Whirling around, he had hardly registered the weapon aimed at them before he shoved Raoul out of the way just as a shot rang out. 

Then all he could feel was the searing pain in his abdomen. 

There were screams as he stumbled and collapsed, that much he knew; two women - Christine, undoubtedly, and Meg along with her - as well as his son...oh, his son. The boy he had only just discovered, yet loved with all his heart, and was at the risk of leaving forever before even getting to know him, raise him, love him even more or- 

"God, what did you do that for?" the Vicomte demanded, interrupting his train of thought for the second time that night. 

Erik managed to find the energy to focus again and looked up to see both Raoul and Christine hunched over him, both looking rather worried, though that was more true of the latter, naturally. 

"She was going to shoot you," Erik replied, stifling a groan as the Vicomte held his suit jacket to his wound to apply any pressure he could. 

"So her shooting you was a better alternative?" Raoul retorted. "You...you have a family here." 

Erik sighed quietly as he glanced up at Christine, who had moved to rest his head in her lap, then back to his former rival turned associate. "As do you." 

He noticed the Vicomte seemed to pause at that; he looked up from the gunshot wound to his face and the pressure on his abdomen lessened momentarily. Erik wasn't surprised that Raoul had seemed caught off guard; earlier that very day, they had been at each other's throats, fighting to call Gustave and Christine theirs. That said, neither of them could have foreseen the way the night would go, so quick decisions had to be made, that much Erik recognized. 

"Papa?" he heard a familiar, quiet voice say, which made him turn his head slightly to see Gustave next to his mother, fear all over his face and tears in his eyes, a few having already fallen onto his cheeks. "What's going to happen?" 

Oh, how badly he wished he could say that all would be well, but he could tell that wouldn't be the case; he could already feel his strength waning and his breaths becoming more laboured with each passing moment. 

"I'm sorry, Gustave. I wish you and I had had more time together," Erik said quietly, his heart aching as he watched his son simply shake his head in response. 

"But I don't want you to die, I want you to stay here with us," Gustave said before he leaned over and much to everyone's surprise, hugged his father. 

Erik winced slightly when he did but waved Raoul off when he began to tell Gustave to move. "I'm so sorry, my boy," he whispered, slowly moving his arm so as to avoid any extra pain and wrapping it around his son. "You're going to be alright, I promise." 

"Please stay, Papa. I don't want you to go," the boy replied just before a quiet sob escaped him and he buried his face in the crook of his father's neck. 

"Shh, no tears, Gustave. I'm sorry I cannot stay, but your _maman_ has plenty of stories about me. I will never really go away, I promise you that." 

"And your Papa will never break a promise if it is in his power," Christine quietly added as she gently pulled Gustave up and held him close while she fought back tears of her own.

Raoul sighed as he looked at his wife and her son, then glanced back at Erik, pulling his jacket away and feeling his stomach twist slightly at the amount of blood stating his shirt and soaking through his waistcoat. One look at Erik's face and seeing the expressions of pain that he was trying and failing to hide told him enough; the man was dying and unless help arrived that very moment, there was nothing to be done about that fact. 

"They're going to be alright, Erik," he decided to say as he set his jacket to the wound again, even though he knew the ex-Phantom was well aware that it was pointless. "I am going to take care of them and I am going to do it right this time. Gustave deserves better than what I gave him, and if you can't be the one to do that, then...then I'll do it on your behalf." 

Erik managed a weak smile and nod in response. "Thank you," he said hoarsely. "I...I trust you." 

Raoul returned the nod and took Gustave into his arms when Christine leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Erik's forehead, then his lips. While a slight spark of jealousy flared up in his chest seeing that, he managed to smother it; the man was dying and deserved a moment with the woman he loved, the mother of his one and only child. Even someone with all his faults and flaws deserved that. 

"I love you, Erik," he heard Christine say as he gently smoothed down his hair, no doubt trying to soothe him in his final moments. That was her way, after all; gentility and kindness whenever possible. 

"As I love you, my angel," Erik whispered, lifting a slightly shaky hand to brush his knuckles against her cheek. "Thank you for...for all you've given me." 

When his wife finally allowed a sob to slip from her lips, even Raoul found himself getting teary-eyed seeing her in pain. Still, he gave the pair their space, settling to hold Gustave close and wait for the inevitable end to the situation at hand. 

"Oh, Christine," Erik said softly, a tear falling from his own eye, the Vicomte noticed, before his voice lifted into the weakest song he'd ever heard, which was undoubtedly all the man could manage: "Christine, don't weep, for I can finally sleep... I have heard you sing...once more." 

All was silent and still at that, and Raoul hugged Gustave even tighter as he noticed the rise and fall of Erik's chest had stopped, the hand that had been resting just above his injury slipping to fall onto the deck of the pier. 

"Papa?" Gustave asked quietly, lifting his head and looking over at his father's body as he started to sniffle again. "Papa, w-wake up." 

"Shh, Gustave, he's gone. I'm so sorry," Raoul whispered, cradling the boy's head to his shoulder and shuffling closer to his wife to wrap an arm around her while she hugged Erik's head against her chest. "I'm sorry, Christine." 

His wife simply nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of Erik's head before she turned to him. "Thank you," she whispered. 

"For what?" Raoul queried with a frown. 

"For everything you said. You brought him peace when he needed it and I can never thank you enough." 

With a small smile, the Vicomte leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Of course. He wanted his family to be safe and I wanted to reassure him that that would be a reality. He deserved to know that you two will be okay even when he isn't here to make sure of that himself, and I intend to ensure that happens." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cried multiple times writing this, i am SO sorry


	7. It's Only the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when there's a thunderstorm in paris, meg is there to calm erik's nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: panic attack 
> 
> i'm finally writing merik (meg/erik) content!! ofserien requested this sweet little fluff-filled oneshot, and i'm such a sucker for her merik fic 'only for you' (which you should definitely read, it's amazing) that she got me hooked on the ship, so here we are. enjoy!

He had tried to ignore it when it had started; the pitter-patter of the raindrops against the windows of their home had been almost soothing at first, inspiring him as he worked at the latest composition that had been occupying his mind, but when they got stronger and came along with bright flashes of lightning and loud thunderclaps, his anxiety had started to build at an almost exponential rate. He hadn't been able to focus on the sheet music in front of him anymore, his mind flooded with horrid memories of being left to cry alone in his mother's attic while thunderstorms roared outside, longing to be held in a pair of comforting arms and hushed or sung a lullaby, or when he was held captive in a tiny cage, completely exposed to the elements when it rained and the gypsies were staying put for the night. He could still practically feel the cold droplets beating down on him, soaking him to the bone and leaving him with only a chill to remember it by.

When his hands started to shake, he abandoned his composition, stepping out of his study as the room started to feel like it was closing in on him, almost constricting his ability to pull air into his lungs. He didn't want to wake his wife; he knew that Meg would scold him like there was no tomorrow if she found out that he had been struggling so much and didn't say a word, but he hated to bother her; with her work at the Opera House, rehearsing for hours at a time and then having to perform on top of that. And if her suspicions about a pregnancy were true...

He quickly banished that thought from his mind, already feeling it adding to the pounding of his heart. He had reached the parlour and had initially considered just sitting by the slowly dying fire, but the idea of sitting still was not an option anymore. He couldn't sit still when he was in this state, he knew that; that would only allow him to focus on how cold, clammy, and shaky his hands were, and with his wingbacked armchair, it would only make it feel like the room was growing even smaller than it already seemed to be. So pacing was the only option he had and it was the one he would go with.

He paused in that effort for only a moment to lean against the back of the sofa, trying to breathe in steadily through his nose and out through his mouth, but every breath was strangled and shaky, and just when he thought he might have had some semblance of a handle on it, a loud thunderclap practically shook the house. As he jumped slightly, a whimper slipped out of him; god, when was the last time he'd whimpered? He couldn't even recall, but naturally, the situation when that was all he did in the cage he was confined to on stormy nights such as these came to mind. Left in the cold, dark, rainy night, crying and quietly pleading with God to let his mother, as cruel as she could be, simply walk out of the darkness, free him, and take him home.

With a bright flash of lightning that lit up the room, closely followed by another roaring thunderclap, the shaking in his legs finally grew to be too much and he fell to the ground, pressing his back firmly against the back of the sofa as his breaths came in short gasps. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, his mask having been left behind in his study, to try and block out all the stimulation around him, almost as if not seeing the lightning would convince him that it wasn't really there. He realized the fault in his plan, though, when he still heard the roaring thunder, so he immediately pulled his hands away from his eyes to press them over his ears, desperate to keep any sound out that he could, his eyes still squeezed shut all the while. He pulled his knees to his chest and leaned his forehead against them, his breaths coming short and fast as he tried desperately to distract himself, but knowing that it was only inevitable that he would end up hyperventilating more than he already was and then the cold sweat would come followed close by tears and then...

Then there was a gentle touch on his shoulder. It made him flinch, true, but he knew who it was and just knowing that she was there made it even slightly easier to breathe.

"Erik? Erik, take your hands away from your ears," Meg whispered, gently wrapping her hands around her husband's wrists and pulling his hands down when he failed to move on his own. "I'm here, you're okay. Take a deep breath for me."

"I- I can't," Erik choked out, his forehead still pressed against his knees.

"Yes, you can. Everything's okay, just breathe, my love," Meg replied as she sat up on her knees and wrapped her arms around him, gently running her fingers through his hair with the knowledge that that always calmed him if he woke up from a nightmare or suffered from an attack such as the one he was in the midst of.

The warmth of her embrace was exactly what Erik had been dreaming he had had as a boy and it quickly began to calm him; he felt the pounding of his heart start to slow, and within a few minutes, he managed to lift his head to rest it on her shoulder, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he slowly took a breath through his nose.

"There you are, it's okay," Meg whispered, one hand cradling his head to her shoulder while the other gently stroked up and down his back. "Just remember that everything is okay, you're safe. Tell me what you can think of that helps you remember that you're safe, okay? Go through them for me."

For a moment, he couldn't think of any at all, but slowly, all the things keeping him safe in their home came to his mind: "Th-the door is locked, and so are the windows. We have lights so I can see, and have you here."

"Good. I'm glad you mentioned me; you always have to remember that you aren't alone anymore," Meg said, a small smile on her face as she leaned back from their embrace and held his face in his hands, brushing a few stray tears away with her thumbs. "Everything is okay. Nothing's going to hurt you."

Erik nodded slightly, only to flinch when there was another clap of thunder, which moved him to quickly wrap his arms around his wife again to hold her tight.

"Oh, the storm is what's bothering you, okay," Meg said softly, nodding to herself as she began to piece together a plan to help him. "Alright, come on, let's get you up. We'll go sit on the sofa, I'll go make us some tea and I'll put another log in the fireplace to keep it going, alright? Everything's okay."

"Okay. Thank you," Erik whispered, smiling weakly as she pressed a kiss to his cheek before he took her hands as she stood up and let her pull him up to his feet. His legs were still weak and shaky, he could tell, so he draped his arm around her shoulders for extra support. Not that she would be much help if he were to collapse; given their height and weight difference, he could drop like a rock and bring her right down with him.

The two slowly migrated to the sofa and Erik gave his wife a small smile as she grabbed her thick knitted blanket off of the back of the piece of furniture and wrapped it around him. "Thank you," he said again.

"Of course, my love. Now, just stay cuddled up like that. I'll go put on the kettle to boil and be back in just a moment, okay? You'll be alright, won't you?" she inquired.

"I think so, yes. I'll come to find you if I'm not," Erik replied with a slight nod.

Meg nodded and leaned forward to gently kiss his forehead before she padded off towards the kitchen, her steps as light as they always were; what with her ballerina training, he wasn't a bit surprised. He loved how delicate she was, but at the same time, the fact that she could be feisty and fight for herself only made him adore her all the more. Two polar opposites, perhaps, but his wife encapsulated them both and he couldn't be happier about that fact.

That was something he wouldn't mind seeing in their child if they were ever to have one; the more the little girl or boy was like their mother, the better, in his mind. He knew that Meg disagreed and that she hoped they would have a son and that the boy would be just like him in every way, whether that included his practically non-existent face or not, and as much as he didn't want that at all, he tried his best not to smother her dreams; when it came to the baby, so long as she was happy, so was he.

She reappeared by his side without him even noticing, which was the curse that came along with her delicate footsteps, but it always made her giggle when he jumped slightly as she appeared next to him.

"I got you again," she said with a quiet laugh.

"Yes, you did," he replied, a breathy laugh escaping him as she sat beside him. He moved his arm to wrap it around her, pulling her under the warm blanket with him. "Is the tea on?"

"It is, yes. I have some chamomile set aside for you; it'll help you sleep," Meg said softly. "What is it about the storms that are so difficult for you, hm? I know they bother you, especially when they happen at night, but I've never seen you get quite so bad as you were when I walked in."

Erik sighed; he'd known the question as coming, but still had neglected to prepare a true answer. "I have bad memories of them from when I was a boy," he said simply. "They always frightened me, and I...I didn't always have someone there to comfort me when I was afraid, so that fear has stayed with me and has only worsened over the years, as childish as that may be. There are much worse things to be afraid of, but thunderstorms were always difficult."

He heard her sigh quietly before she set her hand on his chest, over his heart; that was something she always did when she was feeling particularly sympathetic for what he'd been through. "I'm so sorry. You deserved so much better," she whispered.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I have everything I could want now because I have you," Erik replied, resting his hand over hers. "And I know that you will always keep me safe, which I never thought I could have before; everywhere I went, I was in danger or exposed to the elements or running for my life. I was still in that position when we met at the Opera House, as hidden as I may have been; at any given moment, I could have been discovered and the gendarmes could have been down in the cellars, arresting me and dragging me off to prison or a much crueller fate. Now, though, I know that I am truly safe with you, _ma fleur,_ and I couldn't ask for anything better."

Another sigh escaped her, but it was quickly followed by a breathy laugh, which Erik quickly discovered the reason for when Meg turned to look up at him and he noticed the tears in her eyes. "This was supposed to be about me stopping you from crying, not you making me start," she said.

"I am merely speaking the truth," Erik replied as he reached up to cup her cheek in his hand. "When I had panic attacks like that as a younger man, I was always alone to cope with them. Well, almost always; I had Nadir in Persia to guide me through them, and that was a true blessing, but he couldn't be there every time. Sometimes he would be working or asleep or tending to his son and I would have to deal with it alone, which often meant that I suffered through it before I fell asleep again simply out of exhaustion. Now, though I have you next to me in bed every night to help me when I have a nightmare and to rescue me when the thunder is so loud that it's the only thing I hear and I believe it is the only thing I will ever hear. I do not know what I did to deserve you, but I am glad to have you."

"And I am so very fortunate to have you," Meg said softly, tipping her head up to press her lips to his. "But just stay close to me, my love, and all will be well; it's only the rain, there is no need to fret."


End file.
